Philippa Kaur

From the US to Brazil to India, deepening political polarisation is used as a frame through which to see a lot of 21st-century politics. But what can actually be done to depolarise deeply divided societies, particularly democracies? In this episode of The Conversation Weekly podcast we speak to a political scientist and a philosopher trying to find answers to that question.

When a country is deeply polarised it may feel that there’s no way back. But that’s not what history tells us. Jennifer McCoy, a political scientist at Georgia State University in the US, is studying cases of depolarisation from around the world over the past century to see what lessons they have for today. She’s found that in places that have successfully depolarised, three-quarters “happened under conditions of major systemic interruption”. That could have been an independence struggle, a civil or international war, a foreign intervention, “or it was a regime change mostly from an authoritarian to a democratic type of political government”.

Depolarisation within liberal democracies is rarer, but it does happen – and McCoy points to South Korea and Bolivia as recent examples. Her research has now begun identifying a couple of fundamental conditions that countries which have successfully depolarised, and sustained it, can think about, which she talks to us about in this episode.

Meanwhile, Robert Talisse, a political philosopher at Vanderbilt University in the US, identifies another type of division which is dangerous for democracy that he calls belief polarisation. It’s a cognitive phenomenon in which members of like-minded groups adopt increasingly extreme positions. “They become more dismissive of any countervailing evidence,” he says. “They become less willing to listen to dissenting voices, and importantly, they become more internally conformist.”

Talisse doesn’t believe polarisation can ever be eliminated – only managed. And he has a couple of suggestions for how. “Good democratic citizenship requires that we sometimes do non-political things with others, but it also requires that we sometimes do political things all by ourselves,” he says.

To find out more listen to the full episode of The Conversation Weekly.

This episode was produced by Mend Mariwany and Katie Flood, with sound design by Eloise Stevens. The executive producer was Gemma Ware. Our theme music is by Neeta Sarl.

You can find us on Twitter @TC_Audio, on Instagram at theconversationdotcom or via email. You can also sign up to The Conversation’s free daily email here. A transcript of this episode will be available soon.

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According to a May 2022 poll from the University of Maryland, 61% of Republicans favor declaring the United States a Christian nation – even though 57% recognized that it would be unconstitutional. Meanwhile, 31% of all Americans and 49% of Republicans believe “God intended America to be a new promised land where European Christians could create a society that would be an example for the rest of the world,” a recent survey from the Public Religion Research Institute found.

Those statistics underscore the influence of a set of ideas called “Christian nationalism,” which has been in the spotlight leading up to November 2022 midterm elections. Georgia Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene has openly identified as a Christian nationalist and called for the Republican Party to do the same. Others, like Colorado Rep. Lauren Boebert and Pennsylvania gubernatorial candidate Doug Mastriano, have not claimed that label but have embraced its tenets, such as dismissing the separation of church and state.

Few Americans use the term “Christian nationalist” to describe themselves, but many more have embraced some aspects of this worldview. There is widespread confusion over what the label really means, making it important to clearly explain. My work on how race and religion shape Americans’ attitudes toward government led me to study Christian nationalism, and to co-write a book detailing how it shapes Americans’ views of themselves, their government and their place in the world.

Christian nationalism is more than religiosity and patriotism. It is a worldview that guides how people believe the nation should be structured and who belongs there.

Mission from God

The phenomenon of white Christian nationalism has been studied by historians, sociologists, political scientists scholars of religion and many others. While their definitions may differ, they share certain elements.

Christian nationalism is a religious and political belief system that argues the United States was founded by God to be a Christian nation and to complete God’s vision of the world. In this view, America can be governed only by Christians, and the country’s mission is directed by a divine hand.

In my recent book “The Everyday Crusade: Christian Nationalism in American Politics,” written with fellow political scientists Irfan Nooruddin and Allyson Shortle, we demonstrate that this worldview has existed since the Colonies and played a central role in developing American identity. During the American Revolution, political and religious leaders linked independence from the British as part of God’s plan to set the world right.

‘Apotheosis of Washington,’ by John James Barralet, imagining the first president rising from his tomb.
Heritage Art/Heritage Images via Getty Images

From then on, many Americans’ belief that God favors their nation has guided their view of pivotal events – such as supporting Manifest Destiny, the idea that the U.S. was destined to expand west across North America; or framing the “war on terror” as a conflict between Christians and non-Christians in the 21st century.

Today, only about 4 in 10 people in the U.S. are white Christians. The thought of no longer being the majority has prompted some of them to see Christian nationalism as the only way to get the nation back on the right track. Christian nationalism typically restricts adherents’ view of who can be considered a “true” American, limiting it to people who are white, Christian and U.S.-born, and whose families have European roots.

Dissidents, disciples and laity

The majority of Americans do not embrace Christian nationalism. Even so, its echoes appear everywhere from American flags in church pulpits, to the Pledge of Allegiance, to “In God We Trust” on money, license plates and government vehicles.

My book co-authors and I argue that Christian nationalist ideas exist along a spectrum. For our book project, we developed a measure we refer to as “American Religious Exceptionalism” and used it to analyze nationally representative and state surveys from 2008 to 2020. Based on that data, we categorized U.S. citizens into three groups: dissidents, laity and disciples.

“Dissidents” reject the idea of the U.S. having a divine founding and plan, and express a more open understanding of what it means to be an American. Among the nationally representative samples, the proportion of dissidents ranges from 37% to 49% of the population.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, the “disciples” strongly believe in the divine founding and guidance of the U.S. and express more restrictive ideas about who can be a “real” American and who should be allowed to enter the country. Disciples, who represent between 10% and 14% of the population, are more likely to see immigrants as a threat to American culture, and to express concern about the decreasing percentage of Americans who are white and Christian.

Those in the “laity” in the middle represent between 37% and 52% of the population. They demonstrate support for many of the same views the disciples do, such as anti-immigrant, anti-Black, and anti-Muslim attitudes, but less intensely.

Master salesman

Politicians can be thought about as entrepreneurs constantly looking for new consumers. Some of them have found a devoted audience among the disciples, who tend to be politically engaged and eager to vote for a candidate who will advance their view of the nation.

Former President Donald Trump has been particularly successful at attracting voters who are sympathetic to Christian nationalist ideas, by portraying himself as a defender of Christians “under siege.” In June 2020, in the midst of upheaval over police killings of unarmed Black Americans, tear gas was used to disperse protesters to allow then-President Trump to have his picture taken holding a Bible in front of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Washington, D.C. His open animus toward Muslims has also helped bring Christian nationalists from the fringes into the mainstream.

Supporters of then-President Donald Trump pray outside the U.S. Capitol Jan. 6, 2021, in Washington, D.C.
Win McNamee/Getty Images

Images linking Christianity with the nation and with Trump, as part of a larger divine mission, were on full display during the attack on the Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021. In the most extreme Christian nationalist views, the government must be brought into alignment with this ideology – even if force is necessary.

Our research found that 68% of disciples agree that force may be necessary to maintain the traditional American way of life. Most disciples express strong support for representative democracy; however, 48% of disciples support the idea of military rule, compared with 6% of dissidents.

Heading to the polls

Christian nationalism’s movement toward the mainstream is evident in the 2022 midterms, as several candidates have announced their support for Christian nationalism or made statements highly in line with it. Not only does such rhetoric mobilize disciples, but it has the potential to persuade the laity that these candidates will best represent their interests. An atmosphere of increasing partisan polarization, where political debates are sometimes portrayed as between angels and demons destroying the country, provides a fertile environment.

What this means for American democracy is unclear. But as some white and Christian Americans fear a loss of status, I believe Christian nationalism is coming back – attempting to reclaim its “holy land.” More

In western culture today, demons exist as something of a paradox. Religious belief in them is often presented as marginal. Many mainstream Christian denominations are silent or give them little prominence.

In 2014, for example, the Church of England removed references to the devil from its baptismal rites. When questioned, Bishop Robert Paterson stated that the devil “has been turned into a cartoon character of no particular malevolence”.

At the same time, American politics is replete with demons. Pentecostal ideas of “spiritual warfare” – the use of prayer to battle invisible demonic forces – have become mainstream and tied to ascendant Christian nationalist movements.

Belief in satanic forces behind national and global politics are core tenets of conspiracy movements like QAnon, which claims (without evidence) that liberal actors and politicians engage in satanic ritual abuse of children to prolong their lives.

Western demons remain alive and well in popular culture and contemporary politics. One of us (Jonathon) has researched the continued presence of demons in contemporary culture from gaming to US elections.

The other (Zohar) has completed a study demonstrating the complexity of demons in medieval religious traditions and folk tales. And it shows the enduring relevance of these stories for contemporary societies, as such stories continue to be told as a living oral tradition to this day.

Yet it is hard to completely refute Bishop Paterson’s assertion. The devil’s swing between cartoon character and active threat is part of the figure’s complex history in the modern world. While once seen as threats to human souls, demons today are much more ambiguous figures.

The lighthearted and cartoonish depiction of the devil in modern popular culture has managed to undermine the figure’s ability to threaten and terrify.
Everett Collection Inc / Alamy

Malevolence, benevolence, ambivalence

This ambiguity is in line with non-Christian and older perceptions of demons. In the ancient near east, demons were perceived as good, evil or morally neutral. Liminality (existing at a boundary or threshold) and ambivalence are essential characteristic of demons. Christianity repressed these aspects, identifying demons as unequivocally evil.

Traditions such as Islam maintain a long-standing ambivalent depiction of demons and satan, who can be rebellious and believers, deceitful and teachers, benevolent and enemies. In Mediterranean Muslim societies and beyond, jinn (spirits which can be benevolent or malevolent) remain a concrete part of life, due to cultural heritage and religious tradition.

The Qur’an depicts the jinn as an intelligible species, alongside humans and angels. This religious and cultural context is a powerful influence on notions of health and disease, too. For example, the notion of possession by jinn can be seen in Muslim societies, but also in the UK, among communities from Pakistan, Bangladesh, the Middle East or north Africa. Sometimes, modern medicine and an Islamic religious authority are involved in such cases.

The devil and popular culture

For many westerners today, however, demons are more often figures of popular culture. Yet such depictions often echo their ambivalent ancient and non-Christian characterisations. In the TV show The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (2018–2020), the devil is both an object of devotion for several core characters and a primary antagonist.

In Lucifer (2016–2021), he abandons rulership of hell to run a nightclub in Los Angeles and assist local police in solving crimes. These works often take the devil’s theological origins more as inspiration than as gospel.

Lucifer: a crime-solving incarnation of the devil.
Netflix

The titular character of Lucifer is drawn from the universe of Neil Gaiman’s graphic novel, The Sandman – itself subject to a recent TV adaptation. And Sandman’s Lucifer owes more to the Satan of John Milton’s epic 1667 poem Paradise Lost than the Christian Bible.

Milton’s portrayal of Satan wrestling with his damnation inspired others to reflect on themes of freedom, power, justice and self that recast the devil in morally ambivalent, even heroic ways. Beyond simply figures of evil, demons became artistic motifs to explore of the struggles of free will, the opposition to tyranny and the processing of grief.

This ambivalence exists in other religious traditions. Sufi (mystical) Islam portrays Iblis (Satan) as tragic. He was disobedient of God’s command to the angels to bow before the newly created Adam because he preferred monotheism (only prostrate oneself to God) over obedience.

Yet as Kevin Spacey’s character, Robert “Verbal” Kint, says in The Usual Suspects: “The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist.”

This phrase echoes a Sufi warning against turning one’s back on demons: as soon as they are considered dead, they will rise and stab the person in the back. For practitioners of “spiritual warfare”, this is exactly what has happened. To them, the decline in literal belief in demons and the diversity of media depictions are signs not of the evil’s decline – but his ascent.

The Christian right and the devil

The Christian nationalist movement in America today is exemplary here. As Jonathon analyses in their book, Passing Orders (2021), members of this movement view social liberalisation and cultural change as demonic.

Reproductive and LGBT rights and recent movements for racial justice such as Black Lives Matter are key examples of such changes. Often this is framed as a struggle against an imagined “secular humanism”, the driving, diabolic ideology of a secular world that has forgotten the devil exists, and which thus acts on his behalf.

Despite common perceptions of them as inherently evil, the place of demons in modern society is often ambiguous. In line with their depictions in non-Christian contexts such as Muslim and ancient Greek traditions, demons exceed simple representations of evil, becoming symbolic of concepts such as freedom, wilfulness, rebellion, passion and moral grey areas. This ambiguity becomes especially stark when placed against differences in cultural contexts and historical eras. More